


Mek-Sha Trash Disposal

by buckles



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28556847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckles/pseuds/buckles
Relationships: Lana Beniko/Female Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine
Kudos: 7





	Mek-Sha Trash Disposal

The Commander looks over at Lana, and arches an eyebrow; a small quiver of a smile slips over her lip. She raises the Ten-Kilometer Killer -- somewhat of an antiquated thing, modified heavily to bring it up to spec -- to her shoulder. In the sights: a gang of Exchange members, milling about this particular corner of Mek-Sha. 

They're in the way.

Lana doesn't ignite her saber, not yet. The gang don't notice the laser sight trained on one of them, and then suddenly five bolts in series scream out of the rifle and slam into the thug -- some scrappy, nondescript man with black hair. Through the scope, the Commander can see a neat hole singed through clothing and boring deep into the man's chest.

Lana leaps forward, igniting her saber in the air, and lances a different thug, scoring a deep gouge diagonally through a fine zeydcloth armor piece adorned on the woman's chest, effortlessly scorching flesh, feeling the slight twitch through the hilt of the blade's energy nicking the bone underneath.

The gangster erupts in a scream as Lana swings the saber; the eruption of pain ripples through the Force, and Lana feeds off the tremor. She knows she must take care not to slice too deep, or it'll be over too quickly. 

The Commander quickly lances off a followthrough shot at the man's head, and he crumples to the ground. Effortless. A new target, zeroed in -- the medic standing next to him, the healing device in his hand failing, another series of five bolts, three in the thigh, two in the chest, land solidly. The target drops to his knees: wounded, but not worse for wear. Out of the Commander's peripheral vision, a woman ignores the Sith Lord who has carved into her friend and runs headlong with rage for the sniper, machete in hand.

No time for distractions.

The Commander takes an extra moment to line up a headshot on the medic, as the Exchange thug's screaming reaches a crescendo. The crack of a takedown bolt; a momentary hot sensation across her arm; the target's head spalling red as the bolt lands; the grunt and exhalation of the assailant behind her --

Lana takes another swing at the wounded gangster in front of her, and makes another incision, low this time. Another crack of pain ripples through the Force. This time, Lana throws the Force energy off behind her, at the Commander --

The pain starts to sting for a second, and she finds it hard to steady the rifle for a moment. But only for a moment. The rift of healing energy thrown at her tugs at her arm, and the cut of the Exchange blade begins to knit closed, flesh and sinew knitting tight together again, her uniform wet with blood yet the flow damming to a stop.

No other targets at range.

So instead, the Commander hurls her offhand vibroknife at the thug. It lands squarely in her neck -- a spray of blood dashes across the Commander's face in response -- and the charges activate as her foe writhes with electricity for a moment, then crumples to the ground. 

Lana finishes off the gangster, feeding off her last gasp of pain, desperation, and hopelessness as her life ebbs away, and throws another wave of healing energy at the Commander. But she's recovered. 

Lana sprints back over to her wife as she rises from the kneeling posture she assumed for accuracy. A small quiver of a smile slips over Lana's lip as she puts a hand to the Commander's cheek, her thumb wiping away the bloodstain.


End file.
